


Face Down in the Dirt

by Switch842



Category: Fight Club (1999), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Switch842/pseuds/Switch842
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is having a shit week and just needs to let some steam out. He might just get more than he bargained for when he follows those men down to the basement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face Down in the Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR Spoilers for Fight Club (the movie). If you haven't seen the movie and want to at some point without being spoiled, you may want to skip this for now.
> 
> Big thanks to [eviljr](http://eviljr.livejournal.com) for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. Title from the song of the same name by Motley Crü.
> 
> Timeline notes: This story takes place in 1999, pre-series for SPN and the year the movie was released. I'm also going on the assumption that the movie is based in Delaware based on the few clues that are given throughout the film.

Dean was having a shit week.

Dad wouldn’t let him go on the hunt, insisting that Dean had to stay home and watch Sam. He seemed to completely forget the fact that Sam was now sixteen. His brother could handle getting himself to and from school for a few days. And he was a big enough bookworm that there was no way he’d risk cutting classes even for a couple days. But, no. Dean’s job was to watch out for Sam, even though Sam didn’t need watching out for anymore.

And Sam. God, Sam was pissed at Dean even though none of this sucky situation was his fault. The only looking after Dean had done was to make sure Sam ate dinner. Other than that, he left Sam alone. He didn’t harass him about getting to school, if he had lunch money or doing his homework. He just let Sam be and made sure the place didn’t burn down.

Dean was getting really fucking bored. Dad had said they wouldn’t be in town long enough for Dean to get a part-time job, so Dean had spent most of the last week watching whatever crappy TV the motel got and trying not to blow his brains out.

Well, tonight was the last straw; Dean had finally snapped. Sam had gone off on him for some reason Dean still didn’t understand, so Dean walked out before he did something he’d regret. He didn’t need to deal with Sam’s teenage angst bullshit on top of everything else. 

There was a crappy looking bar just down the road that Dean knew he could get served at without anyone refusing his (still) fake ID. He’d been sneaking into bars for the last two years and no one had yet to take a second look at him. It was all in the attitude, he believed. He walked in like he owned the place, like he belonged there, and no one questioned him. And the leather jacket his dad had passed down to him probably didn’t hurt. It definitely helped make him look older.

The brisk fall wind whipped at his face as he made the short walk to the bar. He fucking hated New England in the fall. His cheeks were stinging with windburn and he had almost lost all feeling in his hands by the time he made it inside. He walked up to the bar ordering a shot of whiskey, to get his blood flowing again, and a beer chaser. He took a seat on a stool facing the door and settled down for a few hours of peace and some people watching. 

He was trying to figure out if he could chance hustling someone on the rundown pool table in the corner or if these folks wouldn’t look too kindly on that sort of action. The bar wasn’t too crowded as it was a Tuesday evening, and there were a few targets that looked like they might have some potential.

He gaze kept returning to this one guy who made occasional trips to the bar for the group he was with. He had bleached blond hair that looked completely out of place in this podunk town, and he was one of the prettiest men Dean had ever seen. Jesus. Dean had been called pretty enough in his own time, but this guy? Way prettier than Dean ever was. 

And that wasn’t the only thing. Everyone in his little group looked like they had been in some sort of all out brawl a few days ago, but they were laughing and smiling and slapping each other on the back like it was the greatest thing in the world. This particular guy had the remnants of a pretty spectacular black eye, a split lip and good sized cut above his right eyebrow. Most of the group looked like they had bruised knuckles from what Dean could see along with various scrapes and bruises. A few looked even worse off than blond guy, but they didn’t seem to care. One guy’s arm was in a sling from what looked like a dislocated shoulder, if the way he was holding himself was anything to go by.

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as blondie and a guy with a buzz cut went over to the pool table. Maybe Dean would have a little fun tonight after all. He waited until they were about half way through their game before wandering over and nodding in greeting. They each nodded in return briefly before returning to the game. Blondie was winning with only two stripes left on the table to Buzz Cut’s five solids.

"Play winner?" Dean asked during a break in the action.

"Sorry," Blondie said. "We’ve got somewhere to be after this."

"That’s cool. Anything exciting?" Dean asked, seeing if he could get in on something better than this.

"You could say that," Buzz Cut answered with a smirk.

"Hey," Blondie said sharply, turning his back to Dean and dropping his voice. "Don’t say another fucking word. Do you want Tyler to take his anger out on you tonight?"

"I didn’t say anything!" Buzz Cut insisted.

"You’ve said enough. It’s time to go."

Blondie threw his pool cue down on the table before turning back to Dean.

"Sorry, man, but we gotta go." Blondie grabbed Buzz Cut roughly by the arm, dragging him back to their table. After a terse conversation, the rest of the motley crew abandoned their drinks and followed closely behind as Blondie swept out of the bar.

Well, that was enough to pique Dean’s interest. He quickly finished the last of his beer before slowly following the small group out into the night. He was worried for a moment that they had probably driven to the bar and he wouldn’t be able to follow, but luckily, they all seemed to have walked like Dean. They were cutting a noisy path through the woods behind the bar before emerging behind another shitty and even more run down bar than the one they had just left. He waited until they were inside and gave it a good minute before following just to make sure they wouldn’t make him.

Dean opened the door and looked around. No one was there. They hadn’t just vanished had they? He stood still, listening for a moment before making out the rumblings of a large group of people all talking at the same time. He followed the noise to a door behind the bar into the storeroom and then to a set of double doors usually found covering cellar entrances. What the fuck was going on? He crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, prepared for whatever it was that he might find.

What he did not expect to find was a group of about twenty men, all ages, all sizes and all in various states of undress with shirts and shoes and belts discarded haphazardly around the room. They were standing around in a circle like they were waiting for something or someone. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the stench of sweat and blood that seemed to seep from every pore on the wall. The floor was caked in dirt and grime and Dean was sure he’d contracted some disease just by stepping foot in the room.

For a moment, Dean was worried this was going to be some sort of weird demon ritual thing. He patted his jacket to double check that he had the salt shaker and flask of holy water handy before slipping quietly into the back of the group. He didn’t have long to wait as the room soon erupted in a chorus of cheering as a short, scrawny, mousy looking man with messy, dark hair stepped into the middle of the room. He had a black eye and a split lip. There were a myriad of cuts and scrapes and bruises covering his torso. Dean was guessing this was the Tyler that Blondie had mentioned earlier in the bar.

"Gentlemen," he said commanding the room. "Welcome to Fight Club."

 _Fight Club? What the hell was this?_ Dean wondered.

Tyler continued as Dean weaved through the crowd. "The first rule of fight club is – you do not talk about fight club. The second rule of fight club is – _you do not talk about fight club._ " Tyler paused and turned to look at one man in particular who immediately studied the grubby floor under his feet to try and hide from Tyler’s penetrating stare. Dean guessed he had talked.

"The third rule of fight club is – when someone yells 'Stop' or goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule is –only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule – one fight at a time. Sixth rule – no shirts, no shoes. Seventh rule – fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule – if this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight," Tyler concluded looking directly at Dean.

The rest of the men turned to follow Tyler’s stare and Dean met them all head on. He noticed the look of recognition from Blondie and Buzz Cut. They didn’t look so happy to see him there. So, this was a club where it seemed the men took turns beating the shit out of each other. Dean could do that.

"Hey," he said. "Nice to meet you all. No one talked," he added. "Just putting that out there."

"Glad to hear it," Tyler said. "Please remove your shirt and shoes then come on down and choose your opponent."

A path cleared in front of Dean as he slowly peeled off his layers of clothing. He also left the amulet in his coat pocket, not wanting to give his competitor any choking opportunities. He slipped off his boots and socks as quickly as he could before making his way to the middle of the room. There were broken down cardboard boxes on the floor defining the fight area that held an impressive splattering of blood and possibly other bodily fluids. Awesome. He was glad to see that there were some thin mattresses covering the few concrete poles around the basement, too. 

Dean got to his place in the center of the ring and turned to check out all the possible candidates. There were some definite contenders in the bunch, but as soon as Dean saw the look on Blondie’s face, he knew who he would be fighting. It was a look of resentment and intrigue, like he just couldn’t believe Dean had the guts to follow them here. He needed to find out what this guy was made of. Dean just pointed at his chosen adversary. It seemed he had made a good choice if the whistles and cheering were anything to go by. Or maybe it was a bad one.

"Good luck," Tyler whispered as he cleared the way for the two men.

Dean didn’t need luck. Dean would wipe the floor with this bleached blond douche. Hell, Dean had taken down a poltergeist, a ghost and a shifter just last month. He could handle one scrawny townie. 

He hung back a little, letting Blondie get the first couple strikes in, trying to feel out his fighting style. He took one shallow punch to the gut before dodging some quick jabs intended for his face. This guy was pretty good, Dean had to admit. He was quick, feisty, but he had one flaw - he was cocky. He was laughing at Dean, egging him on, practically begging Dean to knock his teeth out. Eventually, Dean had had enough of their little dance and stepped right into Blondie’s space. A quick strike to his solar plexus followed by a swift side kick to his knee had this guy doubled over in pain in less than 10 seconds.

Dean tuned out the cheers and catcalls from the gallery, keeping his focus on his opponent. He knew this guy would hate to be as embarrassed as Dean had just made him. Dean braced himself for the impact he knew was coming and as soon as Blondie sprang to his feet, Dean side stepped him, sticking out one foot to send the guy sprawling on his face. He stopped just inches from one of the concrete pillars, quickly rolled back onto his feet and charged at Dean, his fists swinging wildly. Dean easily dodged most of the errant blows, letting Blondie land one lucky punch to his cheek before getting right back into the show off’s face. A few quick blows to the ribs had Blondie dropping his hands, letting Dean get in a good cross and left hook. He felt the nose break with his last blow and almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. But, damn, it just felt so good to be able to get all this pent up frustration and aggression out.

Dean was expecting Blondie to give up after that, but this guy was tenacious. He rolled with Dean’s punches, ducking down and returning with an uppercut to Dean’s jaw that had his teeth clacking together. Dean brought his hands up in defense leaving his midsection open to attack. Several hard blows later, Dean was spinning to get away and try to regroup but only succeeded in giving his opponent the opportunity to land a hard kick to his kidneys, sending Dean sprawling into the crowd.

Oh, that was it. The gloves were coming off. This guy was in for a world of hurt now. Dean took a moment while he was down to catch his breath, wipe the sweat from his eyes and regroup. He needed a new strategy and fast; no way was he losing this fight. He stood up and turned back to face his opponent. Blondie stood tall, his hands in fists, ready for Dean’s next attack.

From his stance and expression Dean figured this guy was preparing to be charged; for Dean to just be so mad he unleashed all his pent up fury in one massive attack. Dean did exactly opposite that. He walked around the outer edge of the fighting circle, slowing things down, trying to get the flow back in his favor. It was becoming obvious that Blondie knew what he was doing and that he was one of the crowd favorites judging by the cheering and yelling that was going on. Dean blocked all that out and narrowed his focus. He thought back to earlier in the evening, Sam yelling at him and all the rage that had been building in the few days that his dad had been gone. Once he had that energy contained, he attacked.

He rushed forward, ducking under the blow the other guy tried to throw. Dean came up quick with an uppercut to his chin, followed with an elbow to his cheek causing the other man to stumble and turn his back to Dean. A quick shove, had him stumbling and catching onto one of the guys in the crowd to keep from falling. He quickly turned back to Dean, wiping the blood from his lip. With a smirk, he charged at Dean, who immediately went low and easily tossed the guy over his shoulder. He landed with a sharp smack on the hard concrete and Dean wasted no time in immobilizing him further. He sat his weight on Blondie’s hips, squeezing to keep him from squirming away. A sharp shove to his already broken nose with the heel of Dean’s hand had his eyes tearing and Blondie pushing at Dean to try and get away. Dean easily dodged the flailing and went to town, landing punch after punch to his face and torso. This guy was going to fold whether he wanted to or not.

What Dean wasn’t expecting was to feel a hard dick poking him in the thigh. Dean was sure it didn’t mean anything, it was just the adrenaline. Hell, Dean was half-hard himself. Surprised as he was, Dean didn’t let that little revelation stop him. After one last hard punch to the guy’s ribs that Dean was sure he had cracked, Blondie finally smacked a hand down on the ground, tapping out of the fight.

Dean rolled off to the side, dropping down to the ground himself, panting hard from the exertion. He hadn’t been in a fight like that for a long time and, damn, it had felt good. He turned to look at his opponent to make sure he was still breathing. The guy was looking back at Dean, his face covered in blood, his nose definitely broken, with the biggest smile Dean had ever seen. Then he started laughing. Dean just stared at him for a moment, he was sure the guy had gone crazy, but he couldn’t help himself and finally joined in.

Once the laughing had subsided, Dean rolled to his feet, offering the other guy a hand up. He took it and held on as he pulled Dean in for a quick hug. Dean patted the guy on the arm as he pulled back, their hands still caught between them.

"Thanks, man," Dean said with a small chuckle. "Guess I needed that."

"Anytime," he replied with a wink, finally dropping Dean’s hand.

"Nice job, guys," Tyler said stepping into the ring. "And new guy, you’ve got some potential. I hope we’ll see you back sometime."

"You just might," Dean admitted.

"Good. Go clean yourselves up," Tyler said turning back to the crowd and asking who was up next.

"Bathroom’s back that way," Blondie said pointing towards the far end of the room.

"Thanks," Dean said. He went to grab his belongings and slowly made his way in that direction. The guy had landed a few good punches and Dean would definitely be feeling it in the morning. But for once, he didn’t care.

Dean was surprised to find the bathroom empty when he made it back there. He was sure Blondie would have been in there for awhile given the state Dean left him in. He probably stayed to watch the next fight, Dean figured. Turning towards the sink and the dingy mirror above it, Dean finally got a good look at himself. There was a bruise beginning to appear on his left cheek from one of the few punches the other guy had landed. He lifted his shirt to check on his ribs, making sure nothing was broken. There was more bruising there, but everything seemed intact.

He turned on the water and splashed his face to get the grime off and to try and cool down a bit. He had quite a bit of blood on his hands and set about scrubbing that off as best he could with the cheap paper towels sitting on the edge of the sink. He got most of it off, but the rest would have to wait until he got back to the motel where they had the industrial strength soap. He quickly wiped down the rest of his body, removing any sweat and stray dirt before getting dressed. 

He sat down on the one toilet to tie his boots and took a moment to finish collecting himself before leaving. He rolled his neck around, feeling some of the bones pop with the movement. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched up before deciding that was good enough. Time to get back to Sammy and make sure the motel hadn’t burned to the ground.

He took the long way around the crowd, taking his time heading back up the stairs. The bar was just as deserted as when he had come in and Dean walked through the dim neon lights towards the front door. Suddenly, a hand shot out and dragged him down a short hallway and further into the darkness. Dean was ready to kick some serious ass; whoever had the guts to do this after the fight he had just been through was in for a world of hurt. He huffed out a breath as he found himself slammed up against the wall and a hot mouth was sealing over his. He easily shoved the guy away, wanting to see who his attacker was. 

He wasn’t too surprised to find his opponent from the earlier fight staring back at him in the soft glow from the neon bar lights. He’d managed to clean himself up and was looking half-way decent despite the obviously broken nose. There was urgency in his expression, as if silently begging Dean not to say no. Dean could feel he was still half-hard from the fight, and hell, he’d never been one to discriminate. He pushed again, shoving the guy up against the opposite wall before biting forcefully at this lips.

The kiss was savage and vicious, an eerie mirror of their earlier fight. They tumbled further down the hallway, pushing at each other and pulling at the clothes Dean had put back on. By the time Dean was shoved into the men’s room, his jacket and shirts had been discarded and Blondie had his pants undone, almost falling off his ass, starting to stroke himself in eagerness.

"Uh uh," Dean said. "Mine." He would win this fight just like he had the earlier one. 

He easily lifted the guy up onto the counter, who hissed as his ass hit the cold, wet laminate. Dean reached down and pushed his own pants down, lining up their dicks and grabbing them both in one large fist. The guy’s head fell back and banged into the cracked mirror as his hips rocked up into the heat of Dean’s hand.

"God," he muttered, his head falling forward onto Dean’s shoulder. "Fuck me."

"Yeah?" Dean whispered.

"Please," he begged.

"You got anything?" Dean asked.

"Back pocket. Hurry."

Dean stepped back to give the guy room to get down from counter and turn around. He pulled the condom out of his back pocket, shoving it at Dean. He braced one hand on the counter as he started stroking himself again.

"What did I say?" Dean hissed into his ear as he rolled the condom down his dick. "Mine."

With one swift push, Dean buried himself in Blondie’s ass. A loud groan was shoved out of his throat as he Dean bottomed out, and he smacked a hand onto the mirror, bracing himself further for Dean’s attack. He pushed back against Dean, signaling he was good and Dean could start moving. Dean wasted no time and quickly set a brutal pace, his fingers digging into this guy’s hips no doubt leaving more bruises. This guy didn’t seem to care, though, and he gave back as good as he got, rolling his hips into Dean’s thrusts, mumbling nonsense and moaning when Dean hit the right spot.

Dean reached around and grabbed Blondie’s dick, stroking it with the same viciousness he had unleashed earlier. It seemed to be exactly what the guy was looking for and he was coming not long after, pulsing over Dean’s hand onto the counter. Dean followed close behind, biting into the guy’s shoulder as he shoved in deep and spilled his release into the condom.

They stayed locked together for a moment, panting harshly as they came back down.

"Damn," Dean muttered as he pulled out, quickly tying off the condom and tossing it into the garbage. He stepped up to the sink, to clean himself off again and was surprised when Blondie took it on himself to wipe Dean’s dick off with a wet paper towel before tucking Dean away and doing up his pants.

"That was something else," he whispered in Dean’s ear. "Thanks."

Dean looked up and caught the little smile on his face. He felt himself respond with his own smile before he could stop and nodded.

"That it was," he agreed.

"See ya around?"

"Probably not," Dean replied. "Just passing through on business. I’ll be gone in a couple days."

"That’s a shame. Well, if you ever find yourself back this way, you know where you can find me."

"That, I do," Dean said. "And, well, thanks. For earlier."

"No problem," Blondie replied, looking like he wanted to say something else. "Listen," he continued. "I shouldn’t be telling you this, Tyler would kick my ass if he knew, but you seem like you enjoyed this. And, well, there are others. In towns all over the country. So, if you ever need to let go of some of that anger, you know what to look for." He turned and bolted from the bathroom before Dean could reply.

 _Good to know,_ Dean thought to himself. He finished cleaning himself up and went to grab the rest of his clothes from the hall. He wasn’t surprised to find no trace of Blondie, which made Dean realize he hadn’t even gotten that guy’s name.

Dean let the brisk wind wash over him on the walk back to the motel. Somehow, it didn’t feel as harsh as it had earlier in the evening, just refreshing. A small smile formed on Dean’s lips and he found himself whistling on the rest of his walk. 

Dean strode confidently back into the motel room, knowing he wouldn’t let Sam’s mood get to him.

"Shit, Dean!" Sam exclaimed as he walked into the small kitchenette. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"Never better, Sammy," Dean said patting Sam on the cheek. "Never better."

He continued through the small room to the bed, stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and slid under the sheets. He was asleep within minutes and slept more soundly than he had in weeks. 

A few weeks later found the Winchesters in rural Missouri, hunting a ghoul. It wasn’t going well and Dean was beginning to feel his father’s frustration building on him. He managed to escape one night when John was out doing some more research. He walked into the nearest bar and couldn’t help noticing the pack of guys by the darts, looking like they’d recently had the crap beat out of them. Dean smiled, immediately knowing how he was going to be spending his evening.

THE END


End file.
